When the Night Calls
by Chibi Yuushi
Summary: An old master's outlook on his life... and the coming of a new master. What if the 'other' Mitsurugi Ryuu had survived? oneshot


_Ciao!!! _

_As I have hit 175 reviews in RtK but have not yet heard from Néli with the latest chapter I have this little tidbit of a story for all of you. It's more me indulging in writing than anything else, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Well… welcome to an outlook on a possible future._

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_"…." Denotes talking _

_….. denotes thinking _

_*~* means a change of scenery (either temporal or local, I think which one of those will be clear) has taken place _

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Disclaimer: I do in no way own any rights, moral or others, to Rurouni Kenshin, its characters or plot. Characters other than the characters from Rurouni Kenshin bearing any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. I do not intend to make any profits out of this story, it's written for entertainment purposes only and any attempt by persons natural or legal to make money from it in any way is not in accordance with this author's express wishes. 

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**When The Night Calls **

It's the birds that awaken me- their merry chirping rings in my ears, just like every morning, announcing the grand entrance of the heavenly body that bestows light and warmth upon us. My hand finds itself basked in the prelude to brilliance that is yet to come, and as usual I raise myself to commence my morning ritual. My window faces East, just like that of my beloved father did, back when we still lived over in Holland, or the Netherlands, if you'd rather call it by that name.

Since I was a child I have admired the beauty of nature, and I certainly kept my love for the living things around me. I can see them follow their instincts to carry them through their own morning ritual as I brush the tangles from my long, reddish-brown hair, a trait I inherited from my mother, watching the reflection of Sun's first ray paint my skin rosé. I have always enjoyed these seconds of silence, as the stars fade away onto the other side of our planet and Earth's creation holds her breath to await the glorious return of the life-giving light. A quick prayer steals itself from my lips- I had thought I had left faith behind me long ago, but old habits die hard and with the arrival of my dear nephew old wounds have been reopened and old habits re-established.

Kisuke… he is gifted, a brilliant mind in a brilliant body, sharp-witted and attentive. I have never met such a young person who was so wise and well-versed in the ways of the world, and I can't help but think that perhaps everything has been for the best, was for the best, will be for the best.

The water in the earthenware jug I keep at the threshold of my classical Japanese garden is pleasantly fresh and cool- I don't ever miss my morning drink out of it. My family's stories tell it was created by a great swordsmaster posing as a potter, and perhaps we are the only ones who still believe it's true and know the deeper history behind all that. It was told from teacher to pupil, over five generations and more than a hundred years now. We are an old family, not numerous, but prestigious and old, at least where we came from.

My return to Japan caused quite a stirrup- I wasn't to go back to the country that had betrayed us. However, my wife didn't want to leave her ailing parents alone, and love is perhaps the greatest motivator in the world- I accompanied her to live with her in a prestigious suburb of Kyoto. Our house is fairly big, but I don't care about that- she has her whole clan to take care of business matters after all.

A little bird, a sparrow, I think, has landed on the flat, blackish slab of granite that gently slopes down to our koi pond. My carps are hungry, snapping at every single disturbance on the reflective surface of the pond while the bird drinks as though nothing were happening. It knows it is not in danger, it cannot even sense me as I have stilled my every thought. My eyes take in the beauty of my well-crafted garden, the green of my carefully trimmed bonsai pines, the elaborate geometric patterns of the white-stoned paths. I love my garden, its freshness, artificial naturalness.

Outside my house I can have the real nature, wild and untamed, the part of my park I demanded be kept that way for training purposes. There has not been a single tree in that little expanse of wilderness that hasn't suffered from either me or my nephew, and I just smile at the thought that perhaps these trees will be thankful that everything will have an end after nightfall today. My last day, the day I have been preparing for all my life.

The sun has risen, casting long shadows in front of me and over my eyes, enhancing and dimming the clear radiance of Nature. I stare up at the light, wondering how it can be that this ball of gas, so far away, can provide a whole planet teeming with life with enough energy to sustain all that lives upon it.

"It's a miracle…" I whisper, awed at the simple display of yet another day beginning. My last day beginning… I shouldn't think of it as my last. It's my first, and I will enjoy everything that comes after. It will end in a turmoil, in anxiety, in fear and pain, but despite my knowledge of what is to happen I feel at ease, peaceful even. There is no way to avoid the future, my destiny, and I will not try to do so.

"It's a wonderful day, Uncle!" My nephew, stretching the tight muscles in his shoulders, steps up to me, silent as a cat. I knew he would be coming, as he does every morning, and just smile at him, taking in the picture of a fine, if a bit stout, twenty-two year-old.

"It's a miracle day," I answer, breathing in the freshness of a morning that hasn't been tainted with pollution yet and marveling at the sweet bitterness the perfect teardrop of dew on a pine needle instills within me. My last day…

"What are we going to do today?" Ah, he is eager, my nephew. Kisuke… he has been with me since both his parents died when the earth shook underneath their feet and a wall of water wiped out any trace of their home. He had been with me at that time, and deep in me I keep wondering whether he holds that against me. But then, his faith and belief in God are great, and he takes the Christian teachings of forgiveness very seriously. He might not- I hope he does not.

Whatever my last observation was I forget it as I carefully brew the green tea Kisuke and I both are so fond of. He tries to be patient as I sip slowly, carefully, savoring every drop, studying the cracks in the cream-colored glaze of my teacup. As soon as I finish he jumps up and clears away the tea set, almost bouncing up and down in his eagerness to leave for training. I indulge him- there's no need to postpone the inevitable. Even though this is my last day, I am glad- glad that I can lay eyes on the round, shining face of young Kisuke, secure in the knowledge that he has all I have to teach him stored behind the gleaming chocolate eyes of his.

"Let's head out!" It's been ten years- ten years I have said these very words every morning. Today is the last time I say them, but my voice wavers not.

One hundred years and five generations. An art for needs something special to survive that long. We have our stories, and we have our heritage. Our spite. Our scorn. Our love and our hate. We have what it takes to live, and what it takes to grow roots, and I have given all I could of this to Kisuke. His training was long, it wasn't easy and he has yet to come to an understanding about its heritage, the power I am about to bestow upon him. We have deviated from the original path, but our spirit remains with that of the first master. A cleansing breath calms my soul and lightens my eyes, the fire of _ki_ shining in them from the inside, as I see mirrored in Kisuke's eagerly gleaming pools of molasses.

We face off against each other, two swords catching the sunlight to carelessly reflect it into the shrubbery surrounding the clearing we are practicing in. Slowly, the gleam of our blades is swallowed by the clouds our combined _ki_ energies summon. Lightning flashes, and Kisuke looks worried. I smile at him, reassure him- it won't be long now. Two swords, Japanese _katana_ with sharp edges and sturdy hilts, crafted by the finest swordsmiths this country has to offer, raised as one. One the Master's, one the Pupil's. One last time, they salute each other.

The 'true' way of my art calls for the master to die. My way, the way I have had to go when I was a pupil, holds an even worse fate for him. But I don't fear, I don't anguish, I am here and I am calm within the secure knowledge of having found my center.

Since I started my own apprenticeship I had studied many things apart from the art of the sword, and I have made sure that Kisuke has done the same, in preparation for the day when God will call upon him to make his last sacrifice, the sacrifice that is required for the survival of Power. I have learned not to rely on one of my senses, I have learned that touch and sound can be as powerful as the eyes. I have learned how to read, how to sense, how to move without them. I am prepared.

I have looked at the light, and now, when the night falls, I will be ready. Kisuke swallows nervously, his Adam's apple bouncing with the motion of liquid trickling down his throat, and with a final smile I rush at him just as his voice calls the scorn of the heaven's down on my head.

"Rai Ryu Sen!"

As the night falls, I stand ready.

THE END

*grins* As I said, just a little tidbit of a story… If you liked it, review please, and be prepared to find the next update on RtK sometime tomorrow (even if it's unbetaed *scowls*).

_The good news: I have wont the fencing Regionals. For the first time, I made first place in a fencing competition. YAY me. Ry, of course, won the boys' competition easily. So we're both in a bit of a party mood… ^_^ _

_Cya!!! _

_Chi_


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